Santana's Breakdown
by aliceliveson
Summary: In the wake of Finn's death, everyone is concerned for Rachel. However, Santana may need watching over as well; she has a dangerous way of making the pain disappear.
1. Chapter 1

Santana sat silently on the stage, crying. Finn's letterman jacket was clutched to her chest, bringing her the only comfort she had felt in the last two weeks. She was ready to end it all. Finn had been a good man. Not a hero, not some world leader. He was straightforward, honest, and good. That was all there is to it. He had been the leader of Glee club; he had been the person who have Santana any confidence she ever possessed. And she, the Hispanic firecracker, had been his first. She had never apologized for stealing his first time like that; she knew she would do it much, much later in life when Finn had children with Berry and she was married legally. Santana rose stiffly from the stage, sniffling. She walked through the hallways to the nurses. She told Nurse Connie she was simply going to take a nap; how wrong she was. As soon as Connie turned away, Santana had her hands on the nearest pill bottles she could find. She swallowed them all as they lay in a neat little line on her tongue. She began to laugh; the pills, uniform as soldiers, had marched down her throat. Soldiers. Like Finn. Santana could see him, in her mind. She could feel his touch, hear his hauntingly beautiful voice. All laughter stopped and the tears came again, ending only with her unconsciousness. 'Santana, santana!' someone yelled from far away. She moaned; Santana knew she was no longer resting comfortably on the cot. She shivered, her dress having rode up, and her legs touching something cold. She felt her body being dragged to something, then perched on it. 'Stop it, quit it,' she slurred. 'Oh my god,' muttered a man. Santana was lifted onto something, then she was moving very quickly and she wanted back on her cot. She closed her eyes; she didn't want to feel the wind anymore.


	2. Voices in her head

Is she gonna make it?" someone whispered. The voice was foggy in Santana's mind, but it sounded suspiciously like Will.  
"They don't know. She took a lot..." sobbed another voice. It was higher in octave, and resembled Kurt's.  
Santana fought to wake up. Her heart leapt in panic as she analyzed their words; she might not wake up.  
This wasn't what she intended. She didn't want to die, she simply wanted to be free of the pain that ate her up. She strained against her eyelids, but it felt as if both her eyes had been sewn shut. She begged to wake up, her subconscious letting out long screams of desire.  
Eventually, she became tired of trying and receded back into the darkness of her own mind.  
"...didn't even think she was Finn's friend..." muttered a voice. It was Coach Sue.  
"She was a good cheerleader. She was a bitch, too. But when it came down to it, there was some good in her. And...well, I guess I was closest to her," the woman whispered.  
"We'd been roommates...I was with her, when we found out about Finn. She told Rachel. I figured she was the strongest- I mean, she was such a bitch to him sometimes," Kurt said worriedly.  
Santana heard this and continued to try with all her might. The voices stopped suddenly, once, to be replaced by a flat line. It was all he heard, the loud, piercing sound of her death.  
She knew, of course, what it meant. She knew the shocks she felt were bringing her back. And she knew that it was Sue who cried with relief when her heart faintly began to beat again.


	3. Awake

When her eyes flew open, she was alone. The hospital room was empty, and the only sound was the reassuring beep of the heart monitor. She glanced down at the IV nestled into the crook of her elbow, turning her head quickly. The sight of needles had always made Santana sick, let alone the sight of needles in her.  
"Hello?" she called quietly.  
"Oh, Miss Lopez. You're awake. How wonderful! You've been looking good for the past few days- it was only a matter of time, after your heart restarted. It was a positive change after that," smiled a doctor. He had thick black hair that was combed over- it made Santana want to laugh, but she knew that was rude.  
"How long was I gone?" Santana asked quietly.  
"About two weeks. You put your friends and family through the emotional ringer, Santana," the doctor murmured, sitting on her bed.  
"Did my grandma come?" she whispered hopefully.  
"No, honey. No, she didn't," called a different voice. It was her mother.  
"Oh, 'Tana," she cried.  
"Mama," Santana sobbed, hugging her.  
"Oh Mama, I'm so sorry...I didn't know I could die from that much...I never meant that."  
"I know, mija, I know...but the doctor...he said it was a dose that would have killed you had Mr. Shue not found you. He wants to send you off to a...a mental hospital," Mrs. Lopez said, stifling a sob.  
"Hell to the no, Doc McStuffins, we don't have that kind of money," Santana snapped.  
"I'm aware. Someone else is paying the bill: an anonymous benefactor."  
"I don't take charity," Santana hissed, "especially not from strangers."  
"Santana, it is about time you faved your reality. You took enough pills to be a fatal dosage after clearly suffering a traumatic loss. It's not that I think your crazy- I just fink you need rest," the doctor sighed.  
"Then leave me alone," Santana whispered, wiping tears from her eyes. Her response, meant to be snappy, came out weak and lonely.  
"Listen, 'Tana, I have to go feed Buster. I have a feeling some others want to visit you," her mother smiled, glancing in the halls, "so I'll be back in an hour or so."  
Santana smiled at her mother as she left, hoping to ease the woman's mind.  
"Santana!" Kurt shouted.  
"Hey, Lady Hummel, did you bring the Golden Girls and the bow tie section of Macy's?" Santana joked weakly.  
"No to the bow tie, yes to Golden Girls," Kurt said, holding up season 2 on DVD. He dropped the disc onto the chair and approached her hospital bed. He hugged her gently and long.  
"Time to let go now, Lady Hummel, or I'll puke all over you."  
Kurt laughed, wiping his eyes.  
"Rachel...her flight is on it's way right now. She'll be here soon. Hopefully, she'll be able to hold it together. Lord knows Tina and I haven't- she's soggier than...well, than her usual, I guess," Kurt smirked.  
"Is Britt...I mean...never mind," Santana muttered.  
"No one could get a hold of her. We figured she's probably off, doing some crazy thing with Lord Tubbington or something..." Kurt grinned fondly.  
"'Tana, are you feeling better?" Kurt asked suddenly.  
Santana pointed at the morphine drip nestled in her arm and rubbed her stomach enthusiastically.  
"I know you're doing fine physically-getting you off the morphine is going to be the issue. I meant, ya know, mentally," Kurt said quietly.  
"I'm not crazy," Santana snapped.  
"I know. But you did try and kill yourself," Kurt murmured, stroking her arm gently.  
"I didn't mean to do that. And the doctors are carting me off to the loony bin with pee infested elderly and Fatniss the clowns of the world," Santana groaned.  
"I know," Kurt chuckled, "but it'll only be for a few weeks, and I'll visit. I'll even bring season three if you are lucky."  
Santana smiled, tears in her eyes. She hastily wiped them away, embarrassed by her emotions.

Many more visitors came before she left for the hospital. Her friends all cried, glad she was alive. Will was stoic and worried and obviously guilty that he had not helped the girl sooner. Santana tried gently to console him, but he as far beyond reach.  
Coach Sue's visit had a hug, tears, and guilt. The guilt was Sue's, the tears were Santana's, and the hug was the last thing she did before she left Lima Mercy Hospital.


End file.
